A Flittering of Pawprints
by Skittifink Dagger
Summary: Collection of musings regarding my Mutant Rat Necromunda gang. I'm liberal with my language when the circumstances call for it - hence the high rating.


The fist of my musings in regard to the goings on and history of my mutant rat gang. I use a multitude of rat models from skaven 40K and Bloodbowl as well as the normal Jezzail models (albeit somewhat modified).  
Ive always liked to allocate personas to my gangers and stories to my gangs. Though this is the fist I have typed out and shared.

So without further ado – The Sump Runners, Gentemen Rats, and mortal enemies to Ratskin filth.

A creak announced the visitor

The quiet shuffle of bound foot before bound food marked his approach. A cup set down gently, the quick intake of smell, nostrils slightly flairing.

The old rat didnt need to look up to know who it was that seated himself on the table's side before him.

Again the cup raised and a sip was taken, set down and pushed aside, the old glass jar scraped on rough scrap metal for a moment before silence again took reighn.

No sigh, no intake of breath, no eyes met, just a matter-of-fact question "Which of my boys is dead?"

"The youngest, Chip-chip."

The name spoken, a moment passed. Then the old rat took up the steaming pot beside him and poured more tea, warmed his clawed hands on its smooth surface and began to sip.

"What old man? Not a word? No anger? No Grief?"

"Why? Would it change anything?" Another sip of tea.

"Damnit, Remmington!"

"What could I have done? You were the one that seduced my litter from me."

Montgomery could not argue the fact.

The old apricot rat set down the tea and scratched his right ear with a three fingered paw "I knew a life like yours once Montgomery. But I dont need to remind you. We were once fighting for the same thing. Humble as it is, all we once wanted was a patch of the sump to call our own. Remember those days? We were both so much younger. And we were so very greedy. Never enough creds, never a big enough gun, never a territory that was good enough when, really, they all were." He shrugged briefly "Granted that toxic dump was a bit rough."

Montgomery snorted at the memory, he still had both his ears when they moved there, that patch of sump was not fit for scavvies let a lone rats.

The old rat finally seemed to show remorse, a sigh followed by a running of claws through headfur "How did it happen?"

"Some gang of mohawked freaks, Piranahs they call themselves. Looking for more turf, maybe just looking for a fight, who knows. We fought for what's ours, but we couldnt hold it, they had be better guns, more food in their bellies. And for all our fire we had to run. Thought he fought well Chip was captured, he managed to take down three of theirs. Knifed them in the dark like you taught him. He caught a bullet in his leg and couldn't run anymore. We tried to rescue him before they sold him." here Montgomery gently eased his hood off and winced as some fur came with it "Its where I got this." A flesh wound yes, but that was a lot of flesh gone off an already gaunt face.

Montgomery continued "Lucky for me I was never pretty." He again gently lowered the hood over the disfigured cheek, much as that wound should breathe to heal it was better he kept the hood up.

"At the rescue we got shot up pretty bad, most of us were still licking our wounds from the defence and we only had four to spare save me. We tried Remmy, we really did. But we couldn't get to him. They sold him the next morning and ... well, I dont need to elaborate as to what happens to mutants, do I."

The old rat growled in dissaproval but made no further comment.

Montgomerys whiskers twitched "We need you back, Remmy. We need your gun and your eyes with us. Its not just those green haired punks either. Ratskins are back in our sector."

"Ratskins?"

Montgomery nodded gravley. "They are coming back into our turf. Good turf that we fought fair for many years ago. A new leader, a new shaman. Old deals dont hold anymore. With what happened to the twins all those years back. I need you back, if not to fight then to control those two. I can't hold them when there's Ratskins involved."

"Nor should you be able to. They are my boys after all."

"Your mate was killed by ratskins, wasn't she?"

"You know the story Montgomery." The old rat got up from his chair, a few vertibrae cracked at the movement, he stood to full height, he was taller than montgomery and leaner. Many years the red rats senior he put the youger rats physice to shame. He dug in a small pack until he found a deep crimson liripipe and hood which he placed around his shoulders and coaxed his ears through the allocated slits.

"I swore that this life was over for me. Here I go again, braking promises to myself now."

"Maybe you should stop promising things, the underhive is too uncertain."

Remmington padded over to a wall and lifted a massive musket off its display hooks, he peered down the barrel and then slung it over his back by a long leather strip.

"That would be the wisest way, I agree." Two large wicked knives found their way to his belt and a shoulder to hip sash with powder reloads cut his pale fur. "I doubt I'm as fast as I used to be, age does that. But one promise I need not make is that any ratskin filth that shows a skerrick of flesh before my musket shall do so only once." The old gleam of murder again shone in Remmingtons eyes "Show me to the fight, old boy. Its time so kill some skinners."


End file.
